


You Can’t Even Break a Rule

by longwhitecoats



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Kirk, Dom/sub Undertones, Fantasizing, Hands, Kink Negotiation, Kirk's Bottom, M/M, Masturbation, Spanking, Top Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/pseuds/longwhitecoats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, Spock, don’t—“ Jim sputters as he’s shoved into an empty medlab room. The door shuts, and Jim finds himself suddenly flattened against the wall, his face against cold metal, an angry Vulcan pressed flush against his back from head to heel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can’t Even Break a Rule

“No, Spock, don’t—“ Jim sputters as he’s shoved into an empty medlab room. The door shuts, and Jim finds himself suddenly flattened against the wall, his face against cold metal, an angry Vulcan pressed flush against his back from head to heel.

“I warned you, Captain,” Spock says in the voice that means he’s serious. Jim gulps. “I told you there would be consequences for humiliating me in front of the crew.”

“It was a joke,” Jim says in a small voice. “I—I didn’t mean to.”

“Quiet,” Spock growls in his ear.

“Oh god, Spock, please don’t hurt me.”

There’s a pause.

“Spock?”

Spock sighs.

“I apologize, Jim. I simply find this behaviour illogical. As such, it is difficult for me both to predict your responses in the moment and to hypothesize what behaviours of mine your fantasies might dictate. If we had a script—“

Jim groans and turns around. Spock has stepped back, and he’s gone from that fiercely sexy I’m Going To Throttle You Right Here On the Bridge face that gave Jim wank material for a month to his ordinary, pensive, slightly perplexed I Don’t Know What This Human Nonsense Is About expression. If anything, Jim realizes, he looks a little hurt, like he doesn’t understand why Jim keeps asking him to do this thing that is obviously confusing and hard.

“Damn it, Spock, we talked about the script idea, remember? It just—throws me out of the moment.” He rolls his shoulders. God, he’s tense. He wishes they’d been able to go through with it this time. He’d be glad to get rid of that tension.

“Jim,” Spock says, and however much Jim likes it when Spock calls him “Captain” in his fantasies, it never gets old to hear Spock say his name—“Jim, I must confess that I believe I may be incapable of fulfilling this fantasy. I am sorry.” He does look sorry, all big liquid Vulcan eyes and hands clasped behind his back defensively. Jim _can’t_ leave him feeling bad about this.

He steps forward and reaches behind Spock’s back to take one of his hands. Spock hesitates momentarily before allowing the contact, a definite sign that his feelings are hurt. Jim runs his own fingers over Spock’s, trying to be gentle. He sees Spock blush green, just a little, just over the cheekbones. “Hey,” he says. “You have nothing to be sorry about. _I’m_ sorry for making you feel awkward.” He’s trying desperately to think of what to say to make Spock feel better. “You’re just really hot when you’re angry.”

Spock rolls his eyes, something Jim never would have believed a Vulcan could do before he met his now-boyfriend, the sassiest first officer in the fleet. Well. Unless Bones ever made first officer. God forbid. “The appearance of my anger and the experience of my anger are quite different, as you well know,” he says. “And while I have no reservations about the former, I have no desire to re-engage the latter.” His eyes dart to Jim’s throat then, and he says more quietly, “I do not believe it could be made safe.”

Jim rubs his face with his free hand. Okay, Jim boy, he thinks. What do you do with a Vulcan you can’t make angry, who also can’t pretend to be angry? “What happens  when you get angry, anyway?” he says. “Do you just, like, meditate for a whole day or whatever?”

“Meditation is indeed quite effective in diffusing unpleasant emotions,” Spock says. “There is a particular room on the Enterprise—“

“Never mind,” Jim says. The whole weight of it seems to sink on him then, and he drops Spock’s hand and goes to sit down. “Never mind,” he repeats, more quietly.

Spock watches him for a moment. Jim swears sometimes he can see those gears turning in that astonishing brain, his mind working so much faster than anybody else’s, faster than anybody’s has a right to. He’s a marvel, is Spock, even if he is a complete pain in the ass.

The lights were dim when they came in; Spock walks over to the wall and switches them on all the way. The room feels more like home, now, less like a boudoir where any manner of kinky thing might be possible. Jim thinks of all the paperwork he’ll have to do when he gets back to his quarters.

Spock says, still standing by the door, “What precisely is it about my anger that so attracts you in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” Jim replies. He thinks about it. “Well, I like that you’re so much stronger than me, for one thing.” Spock looks a bit green again. Jim cocks his head, surprised. Can he really not know how attractive it is? “No, seriously. It’s really fucking hot. I like that you can throw me around. And, uh, hurt me.”

Spock just blinks at him. Jim goes on, “And, I mean, I like the idea that I, uh, kind of deserve it. I’ve been bad and all that. You know.” Now he feels the heat creeping up his own cheeks. He’s never had to explain this before; when he asked other guys to top him, they just went with it. Maybe sometimes Jim had to tell them to back off, yeah, and maybe some of them were a little too rough, but he always figured that was the price.

“I do not know, Captain,” Spock says, and something about that makes Jim’s head jerk up. “Perhaps you had better tell me why you have been bad.” He’s got that enigmatic face on again that’s damn impossible for Jim to read. Jim’s searching his face for a clue. Nothing.

“Uh, well,” Jim says, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants, “like, maybe I fucked up the inventory because I was too busy, I dunno, drinking with Scotty. Shirking my duties.”

“It is most unbecoming of a Starfleet Captain to neglect his duties,” Spock murmurs, folding his arms, and Jim feels his dick stir in his pants.

“Right, that’s very true,” Jim says, his mind racing to think of what else he could have done wrong, or why Spock should be upset about it. “And, uh, you’re the first officer, so obviously you had to fix the inventory. It was a real pain.”

“No doubt.” Spock is edging closer.

Jim stands up, feeling nervous, but good, wound up and starting to be really turned on. “So, uh, clearly I needed to be punished so I wouldn’t forget my duties again.”

Spock backs him up against the wall and gently takes him by the wrists. The strength of his grip alone makes Jim suddenly hard as the ship’s hull. “Fuck,” he gasps.

“Punishment,” Spock whispers, “is best if it suits the transgression.” He keeps his face a short distance away from Jim’s, too far for Jim to kiss him, but close enough that he can feel Spock’s breath. God. “On Earth,” he says, “what is the punishment allotted to a wayward child?”

Jim blinks. Is he kidding? Oh _God_ , is Spock going to go all Daddy on him? The thought sends a hot sweet rush through him like a fire in a cornfield, lighting him up all over. “Um,” he says, “I guess they get spanked.”

Spock smiles then, a cold, careful smile, and Jim couldn’t be more ready for this, he is so going to enjoy the fuck out of this. “Very well.” He releases Jim’s wrists. He walks over to a nearby chair, sits in it, and then—Jim wouldn’t believe this if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes—then he _pats his lap_. “Come here.”

Jim is trembling as he walks over to Spock. The light, which a minute ago had seemed clinical and depressing, now makes him feel exposed, dirty, like he’s got nowhere to hide from what he’s done, no way to hide it from Spock. He licks his lips, trying not to touch himself through his trousers. He stands next to Spock, unsure.

Spock regards him impassively. “Kneel over my lap. And take your trousers down.”

Slowly, his eyes on Spock’s face, Jim lowers himself to his knees. Then he leans forward so that his stomach is resting against Spock’s thighs. He unzips his pants. The sound is loud in the empty room. He can feel his heart beating wildly. From this angle, all he can see is the floor.

Spock’s voice is icy. “And your drawers, Captain.”

“ _Fuck_.” Jim pulls down his briefs, feeling the cold air on his ass, feeling his hard dick spring free of his clothes. He can’t help letting out a moan.

“How many strikes do you think you deserve?”

Jim tries to make his brain work. How hard is Spock going to hit him? “Um, ten?”

Spock makes a _hmph_ noise. “You’re the Captain of the Enterprise. You are required to perform to a higher standard. You will take twenty.” Jim gasps. Something about the way Spock says that, the way he’s so commanding and inflexible, hits right down deep in Jim’s secret places.

“Yes.”

Jim hears Spock clear his throat. He whimpers. “Yes, _sir_ ,” he says, his voice quavering.

“Better.” Jim can feel Spock lift his hand, and he tenses. “You will keep count.”

There’s a whoosh of air and a _smack_ , and Spock’s hand comes down on his bare ass like a reckoning, heavy and hot. His hands are so _big_ , Jim thinks. “One, sir,” he says.

A slight hesitation makes Jim lift his head up slightly. “Is this...” Spock says, clearly trying to find a way to ask a question without breaking character. “Do you find this punishment is making the right impression?”

Jim smiles, even though Spock can’t see. “Yes, sir. Very much so. Just the right impression, sir.”

“Good.” And then another blow falls, almost exactly as hard as the first, but on the other side of his ass. Spock is nothing if not precise, Jim thinks, and that somehow only makes it hotter, that Spock has absolute control of how much he hurts Jim, how much he makes him take.

“Two, sir,” he gasps, and then Spock lays into him. He speeds up the frequency of the blows, alternating between a stinging slap that’s mostly fingers to a full-palmed thud that sets Jim’s teeth buzzing. He can feel Spock getting hard, and that makes his skin tingle and spark. Under Spock’s ministrations, his backside is heating up, and he wonders what kind of bruises he’s going to have in a minute. He wonders whether he’ll be able to sit in his chair on the bridge without _everyone_ seeing him shift and groan. And then—he realizes something else.

“Fourteen, sir. Spock,” he says, and the way that makes Spock tense up clearly means he’s fucked up the signals, crap, Spock thinks he’s done something wrong—how does he say this right? “Sir,” he adds, and Spock relaxes, good, he knows this is a positive question coming. “What does—er, if I may have permission to speak?”

“Permission granted,” comes Spock’s voice, and _damn_ if he isn’t sultry and breathy all of a sudden. So Jim is right. This _is_ doing it for him.

“Sir,” he says, like it’s an innocent question to which he certainly does not know the answer, “what do your hands feel like when you spank me?”

Spock draws in a sharp breath, and Jim can’t help the victorious grin on his face. He knew about Vulcan hands, about how sensitive they are, and how intimate it is to touch hands with someone else. Which would mean that using your hands to slap and spank and caress your lover’s ass is equivalent to... what? To nothing humans have a word for, maybe? God, Jim loves his hot alien boyfriend, he really does.

“It feels,” Spock says after a moment, “ _personal_.”

Then the blows resume, and Jim moans, and now he can hear Spock grunting as he lands each _smack!_ and feel Spock’s dick hard beneath him. Spock seems to be hitting him harder and harder, and as Jim says, “ _Twenty_ , sir,” Spock suddenly cries out with obvious pleasure, and his whole body shakes, and holy God, _holy God,_ Jim realizes, _Spock just came in his pants._

The realization rocks him with a wave of arousal so intense that he has to blink to clear his vision, and then, when he feels Spock release, says, cautiously, “May I finish myself, sir?”

“Yes,” Spock gasps, “Oh, _Jim_ ,” and that’s all Jim needs. He grips Spock’s thigh hard with one hand and takes himself in the other, and in a few quick jerks he’s yelling Spock’s name and coming onto the industrial Starfleet issue carpet, and he couldn’t care less about having to clean it later.

They stay like that for a moment, limp, and then Jim rocks back on his heels and flops on his back on the floor. Spock looks absolutely spent, glowing, but he also seems relieved, like this is a bigger weight off his back than Jim realized.

“That,” Jim says, still breathing hard, “was fucking _hot_.”

“Then I will consider it a success,” Spock says, arching an eyebrow, “despite the economy of praise from you.”

Jim laughs. “Spock,” he says, because he’s willing to bet what Spock is _really_ saying is that he’s insecure and needs cuddling, “how about if after I get this cleaned up, we climb into bed and I read you another Dickens chapter?”

Spock looks him over, his eyes fond, clearly resigned to his all-too-human mess of a lover. “I imagine that would be satisfactory,” he says curtly; but then he climbs down from the chair and lies down next to Jim for a minute, tucking himself under Jim’s arm, and Jim knows they both did good.

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to my beta, maastrictian, who has read approximately ten billion of my ridiculous fics, and who has an unerring ear for Spock's voice. All errors are entirely mine.


End file.
